


Knock On Any Wall

by Missy



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: Developing Relationship, F/F, Getting Together, Humor, Making Out, Mild Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-16
Updated: 2014-10-16
Packaged: 2018-02-21 09:28:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2463314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missy/pseuds/Missy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gina has a problem with a peeping tom.  Or needs a clever cover reason to get Rosa to make out with her.  Either/or.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Knock On Any Wall

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bookcat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookcat/gifts).



> Written for Bookcat for the second annual femmeslash exchange. Hope you have as much fun reading as I did writing this one. Thanks to RedFiona for beta!

Gina was hogging the phone again.

Rosa could deal – for the next five minutes. After that she was off the clock, and if Gina wanted her to keep on digging through her stuff in search of an elusive peephole she was going to have to pay her. Gina hung up but continued to talk, this time in Rosa’s general direction - and Rosa considered that a blessing. If Gina was busy talking that meant Rosa didn’t have to deal with Gina flouncing around doing nothing while Rosa was trying to do her job, and if she didn’t have to deal with Gina’s interference then maybe Rosa could collar the perp before her favorite bar shut down for the night. 

She also wouldn’t have to call Peralta for another chapter of the how-to-deal-with-Gina manual. 

He knew way too many things about his old friend, and so Rosa knew plenty about what Gina didn’t like by now; what she liked was a much more finite subject. Gina seemed to like shiny things, anything sleek and modern for the most part – or anything that looked like a prop stolen from the set of the finest Paul Schrader movie. Rosa prodded the ebony curve of a carved leopard sculpture’s back and semi-admired Gina’s style – it was pretty cool in a weird way. For somebody with very little budget and a modicum of taste. But Rosa wasn’t here to admire the scenery. 

“Right, so tell me where these noises keep coming from.” She tried to inject a little emotion into her voice but, alas, it still rang out in a flat, annoyed, angry monotone. 

“Uh,” Gina raised an eyebrow, resting her phone against the cheap plastic coffee table that Peralta had brought into their living situation. And which, in Jake’s words, she totally tolerated because if she threw it out he’d start whining. And then she’d have to give him a noogie, and she had a manicure and a cut and wash scheduled for three. Who had that kind of time anymore? Rosa could hear her intoning the whole story in the back of her mind and wanted to punch herself in the forehead til the sound of Gina’s voice died away. “Hello? I said it was somewhere over…there. Behind my ornamental rack of twelfth century deer antlers and my locket of Cyndi Lauper’s pubic hair.”

Rosa afforded the wall a double-take as she patted around the border, looking for peepholes and any other sign that Gina was what she said she was – the victim of a very active and noisy peeper with a terrible habit of watching her whenever she was watching America’s Next Top Model or dancing around to Lana Del Ray records in her underwear.

With an arched eyebrow, Rosa said. “There’s no holes.”

“That’s so what she said,” Gina grinned. 

“So you’re lying,” Rosa’s eyes were dark, implacable and not entirely icy as she took Gina in. “Damn it. I’m going to miss quarter shot night at the Drowned Sailor.” She’d expected this, but there was something extra-annoying about having wasted time digging around Gina’s underwear wardrobe searching for something that didn’t exist.

“No, you’re just not looking hard enough,” Gina said blithely. She then flounced upon her couch like a wannabe princess and waited for Rosa to do something. “I think there was something in the bedroom? In the closet! Keep looking.”

Rosa disappeared into the bedroom. Two minutes later, a shot rang out, and she emerged, cool and calm. “Right. Checked your bedroom; there’s no holes. ‘Cept for the one I shot in your headboard.” 

Gina had turned on her stereo; she flicked Rosa a look of unperturbed confusion. “Why did you do that?”

“I don’t like knotty pine,” she said flatly. Gina didn’t need to be told that it was just for plain old revenge but she didn’t seem to care. She shrugged and plunked her headphones back onto her head, then turned the music up. So far up that Rosa could hear Modest Mouse wub-dubbing through the distance between them. And then suddenly Gina was dancing. 

The only time Rosa ever found Gina hot was when she danced. She did it with such abandon, with the recklessness she applied to everyday living. The only chaos Rosa liked was the kind she could create herself. “Gina. GINA.” Rosa glowered and yanked Gina closer by her wrist.

A muffled squawk came out of the redhead’s mouth as her eyes shot upward and locked onto her friend’s face. She caught the annoyance in Rosa’s expression and grinned. “Oooh. Hot.” 

“What?” Rosa glowered. “Who the hell do you think’s hot?”

“Somebody who’s in this room with us.” She raised an eyebrow. “James Dean’s ghost. A ghost with a boner. Ghostboner, I call him.”

“That’s crap. You know it’s crap. And do you know what _I_ do with crap?” 

“Um, ew. I hope you don’t step in it. I don’t have a boot scraper.” With that, she danced away from Rosa and sprawled out over the couch again. “So. Wanna finger-flick me on the couch?”

It was barely an offer. But Rosa responded to it out of interest, and with a surprising wellspring of desire. “I can’t believe you made me jump through hoops to get me to come over,” Rosa growled, flouncing into place beside Gina. “You should’ve just asked me. I would have spanked you for free.” 

The redhead “awed” softly, as if Rosa were an unreasonable, pathetic child. “I see your lips moving,” Gina said. “But. Words? Are you making sounds when you should be kissing?”

It was a dangerous game – and Rosa had a feeling Gina had a fondness for them. “Okay, you’re lying, so I’m leaving….”

“Nooooo!” Gina cried, and in one quick sinulous motion ended up straddling Rosa’s lap. “If you leave we’ll never find out who the mad fapper is!” She finished her sentence by grinding herself against Rosa’s button fly.

It suddenly struck Rosa that Gina had absolutely no fear of her. It’d be cute if it weren’t so completely annoying that she felt flustered for wont of doing anything more productive. 

So she shrugged and grabbed Gina by the hair, pressing their mouths together, breathing against her, feeling the heat of the kiss.

Rosa mentally recorded the results. French kissing bought her a modicum of silence. She wondered what other, lower-placed, kisses would do…

*** 

She cornered Gina in the break room the following day, sitting down with a cup of straight black while Gina poured half the sugar container into hers. “Okay. Santiago said I should tell you last night probably made things a little weird, so I thought I’d let you right away that I’m not gonna do any of that hand-holding bs she does with Peralta when I’m on the roster.”

And Gina just squinted at her in confusion. “Uh, who holds hands in this modern era? Are we in a Julia Roberts movie? Did you swallow Richard Gere? Because that would be totally amazing…” 

Rosa groaned and Gina patted her hair with the most ridiculous grin pasted upon her lips. It wasn’t going to be an easy ride with this girl – but Rosa had never wanted easy. At least this time it might even turn out to be fun.

**The End**

**Author's Note:**

> This fanfiction uses characters from **Brooklyn Nine Nine** , all of whom are the property of **Fox Television**. No money was gained from the writing of this fanfiction and all are used under the strictures of of the Berne Convention.


End file.
